Wrist-Lock
by chox55
Summary: Sami Zayn thinks about Kevin Owens in the shower.
Sami wrapped a towel around his waist, elated that the locker room had finally emptied out and he could grab a shower without having to make small talk. The NXT performance center was pretty much home at this point, so he didn't even consider waiting until he got back to his tiny 1 bedroom. Hell, most days they weren't filming, he didn't even bother to shower. What was the point? His life was wrestling and while maintaining basic hygiene was respectful when working with other wrestlers, most of them rarely made the effort.

He twisted the shower faucet on as hot as it would go, silently thanking WWE for at least splurging for high-pressure shower heads. He dropped the towel and stepped into the now-steaming stall. He dropped his head and let the water pound his back, relishing how the scalding temperature felt on his aching muscles. His shoulder was still not 100%, despite being cleared to get back in the ring.

He stepped forward, allowing the shower head to hit hit lower back and glutes. He turned the temperature down a bit and reached for soap, lathering up his hands. He ran them down his taut arms, glad to see his muscles were becoming more defined after being able to get back into his regular training routine post-injury. He flexed his tricep, just for the hell of it, and smiled to himself. No matter how big he got, he often still felt like the little guy, and those tiny reminders of what he had worked so hard for always gave him a little confidence boost. He had always cared more about his work in the ring, but his physique was definitely a welcomed bonus.

His hands moved to his chest, working soap through the light dusting of trimmed red hair across his torso. He tilted his head back and let the stream of water cascade down him and he moved to his stomach. His fingers worked soap through the tuft of hair between his legs and he let out an involuntary groan. He ached everywhere, and with his focus on recovering and getting back in the ring, his dick hadn't seen much attention.

He rinsed his hand and worked his fist over his growing erection, slowly stroking himself to full length. His breath quickened as he thought about the last girl he slept with. He could barely remember what she looked like, but he persisted, filling in the gaps with his own imagination. He longed to have someone else touch him, at this point he almost didn't care who. So many wrestlers had wives, husbands, partners, families, but he had no one. His dick began to go soft.

"God dammit," he murmured to himself.

He closed his eyes again and focused on the water, willing himself to relax. He thought about how far he had come, and how no matter which company he could himself with, he always had the support of those closest to him. He thought about Kevin, who he had worked with for years and had become such a comforting face when he joined WWE.

He felt himself growing and didn't stop to think why, he was soon pumping his dick, thrusting wildly into his own hand. _Fuck_ , he thought to himself. It was Kevin, he knew it was, but it wasn't just the image of Kevin, it was how he made Sami feel. That familiar, warm feeling of always having someone there no matter what. Sure, there were other guys he worked with in the indies who worked their way onto the WWE roster, too, but he didn't share a history with them like he did Kevin. And now that he had returned to the WWE, it would only be a matter of time before the writing team started the Sami Zayn/Kevin Owens feud back up. Which meant they'd be spending more time in the ring together.

He stroked himself faster, tightening his grip. He pressed his left hand against the shower wall, a feeble attempt to keep himself steady and upright. He choked out a sob, moving his fingers over the dark tip of his cock, now dripping with pre-come. He was so close. He squeezed himself harder, wincing at the slight pain. He felt like his legs would give out any second and briefly considered slowing down so they wouldn't find him concussed in the shower stall. He turned so his back was pressed up against the wall and grabbed himself with both hands. He worked his dick with his right, and cupped his heavy balls with the other. He let out a low growl as he saw stars, ropes of semen shooting from his tip. One last squeeze and his dick was wrung dry.

He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and sunk down to the shower floor.


End file.
